The World Without Bay Kennish
by CountTheCrows
Summary: "It's what I want." Bay collects herself. Adamant, she says it again. "I want to have never been born." When it all becomes too much for Bay, when it all starts to crash down, someone offers her the chance to look at her life had she never been in it at all. When all is said and done, what will she choose? What will happen to those in her life when she isn't there?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: An Offer She Couldn't Refuse

The bar is damp and dreary, which is fine with Bay. It's the kind of place they don't card you. You got the dough? You can get some booze. She shouldn't be here. She knows she shouldn't be here. Alcohol only gets her into trouble. Her and Regina, but she couldn't get a flight out until tomorrow afternoon and her motel room was – if possible – more depressing than this place.

At first, she was gravitating towards beer. Nothing special or fancy; just something to take the edge off. But then the flashes came.

Emmett.

"_This doesn't have to be forever. Maybe in a couple of years…"_

She chortled. A couple of years.

What a crock of shit.

Bay didn't want to wait a couple of years. She wanted Emmett now. Why couldn't they have it now?

More flashes come.

The first time he kissed her, all innocent and sweet. The second time. Still sweet, but fiercer. Hungrier.

Their first time in the park. The way he would kiss her neck and….

Oh, fuck.

"Vodka martini," she tells the bartender, "now."

_Please go away_ she wills the memories.

They don't go away. Instead they come harder and faster and with a vengeance as Bay drinks her drink. Then she sees Tank's face.

She sees herself waking up in Tank's bed.

Her bra is on the floor along with her underwear. She has no memory of what has occurred between them.

Him pleading with her not to tell the administration.

The text message saying Tank was expelled.

Why was it all so fucked up?

How did she get here? This place, this bar?

And to make matters worse, her drink was done.

"Another one," she says while snapping her fingers.

"You sure that's a good idea?" comes a voice to her left.

"Excuse me?" she asks, turning towards the voice. It's a guy, of course. A very handsome guy with short, light brown hair, hazel eyes. Had she not just been dumped, she probably would have found the attention and concern flattering. But now she just wants to get lost in her sorrows without being judged or patronized or whatever the hell this prick thinks he's doing.

"I said, you sure that's a good idea?"

"Fuck off."

"Ouch," handsome stranger says, placing his hand on his heart as if Bay has just wounded him beyond belief. "I guess chivalry is dead."

"Chivalry? What, you think you're doing me some favor? You see a girl drinking alone in a bar and automatically believe she needs saving? Well, guess what. You're wrong. I don't need saving. I need you to leave me alone."

Screw this.

"On second thought, forget the refill," she says, throwing down a crisp twenty. "Keep the change."

Bay swivels around in her stool, then places her hand on the bar and pushes herself up from her feet.

And then falls promptly on her face.

"Let me help you."

She feels the dude's hands around her waist, exactly where she doesn't want them.

"Get off of me," Bay growls. "I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine."

"Yeah, that seems to be the consensus doesn't it?"

She manages to get up, but is still stumbling as she heads for the door. And, of course, it's raining.

"Fuck!"

"Need some help?"

Bar dude has an umbrella.

Of course he does.

"Look, I didn't mean to be an ass in there. I'm not some stalker; I promise. You just….you seem a little lost. And sad."

Wasn't that the truth.

"My name is Gabriel."

After a moment of contemplation, Bay responds.

"I'm Bay."

Gabriel extends his hand out to Bay and she accepts.

"It's really bad out here. Can I give you a lift somewhere?"

At this point Bay figures she has two options; fight fate or just go along with it.

Shivering, she points down the road.

"My motel is right over there."

Gabriel nods.

"I'll give you a lift."

Okay, yeah, _this_ is probably why she should never have come to this place. Accepting rides from strangers was not Bay's usual go-to behavior. But although there was some wariness, maybe even fear, there was also a sense of familiarity and warmth emitting from Gabriel. Her gut wasn't pinging the way she hoped it would had there been real danger. Instead, it was almost comfort.

"I'm just warning you," Bay tells him as she climbs into his two-door Chevy, "if you're going to kill me, you might want to reconsider. Take someone who cares about where their life is going."

"I'm not going to kill you."

For some reason, Bay really believes him.

The ride back to the motel takes maybe two minutes. Gabriel helps her out of the car and they walk to her room.

"Want me to do it?" he gently asks when Bay cannot seem to open the door.

It's an old motel, one where they actually still give you a key instead of an electronic card.

Bay hands the key to him and he gets the door open.

"Here," he says, guiding Bay to the bed, "sit. I'll go get you a towel. You're soaking wet."

"So are you," Bay notes, but Gabriel only smiles. It's a half-smile, one with sadness behind it and suddenly Bay wonders if that was why Gabriel was here with her. Maybe he had just had his heart stomped on as well.

He returns with a towel and places it around Bay as she sits at the foot of the bed.

She feels safe.

Maybe Gabriel was her way to get over Emmett. Not booze. Booze wasn't the answer. She never thought sex was either. Perhaps she was wrong.

Bay moves in closer to Gabriel, trying to kiss him.

"That's not a good idea, Bay," he says, pulling away.

Embarrassed, she shrugs him off.

"Hey, whatever. Your loss."

"Sorry. Not trying to be an –

"Ass?" Bay says, cutting him off. "Because you are. Under normal circumstances, this is what anybody would think. You pick me up at a bar and take me back to my hotel room. I mean, what am I supposed to think?" And Bay realizes she's shouting. She brings her voice down to a whisper, "it's what most guys would want."

"Well, it's not what I want."

"Then maybe you can tell me whatever the fuck it is you want, because I'm too tired to figure it out right now. I don't need another guy playing games with me."

Gabriel stays silent, letting Bay vent.

"What do you want? I come to LA looking to start a life with you…" she stops herself. Gabriel is not the intended recipient of this speech. Emmett is. Sighing, she runs her fingers through her wet hair. "Sorry. I just broke up with my boyfriend. Or rather, he broke up with me. I must sound pathetic, huh?"

"No, not pathetic. Just in love."

Bay snorts.

"There a difference?"

But Gabriel doesn't answer that question.

"Bay, did you really mean what you said in the car?"

"Remind me again?"

"About how if I wanted to kill you, I should look for someone who didn't care about their life." Gabriel catches Bay's eye. "Did you mean that?"

She thinks about it for a minute. Then she settles on the easiest answer, "maybe." She doesn't want this guy thinking she's suicidal or anything. How can she explain it. "I just….I've had a lot happen to me over the past few years. Stuff I wish I could erase. Maybe…."

Gabriel probes, "Maybe what?"

"Maybe it would have just been easier had I never been born."

Suddenly, Gabriel walks over to her and kneels in front of her.

"Are you sure about that?"

What was he talking about? No, she's not sure about that. Or anything. She's heartbroken and drunk and rambling on about nonsense.

"Because I can do that, Bay. If you're sure."

Her anger is starting to boil.

"What the fuck are you on about?"

But Gabriel remains calm and steadfast. 

"I'm not who you think I am, Bay. I can make things happen. Things like what you just said. But you need to be absolutely sure about it. Understand?"

Bay shakes her head violently.

"No, get out."

Gabriel starts to walk to the door.

More flashes come to her.

The genetic counselor's office.

Bay finding out she was not a Kennish.

Daphne.

They buzz in her head like bees, making her dizzy. She just wants them to stop.

"_Don't you ever get tired of seeing yourself as a victim all of the time?"_

Zarra.

Ty.

Emmett.

Tank.

Her parents.

Toby.

Regina.

Angelo.

_Stop._

_Please._

It hurts too much.

She just wants…

She just wants…

"Wait, Gabriel, wait."

He turns to her.

"It's what I want." Bay collects herself. Adamant, she says it again. "I want to have never been born."


	2. Toby

Chapter 2: Toby

She closes her eyes in preparation for whatever is about to happen. But a few seconds pass and nothing does.

Opening her eyes, she sees Gabriel standing in front of her.

"What I am still doing here? I told you; I wish I had never been born."

Gabriel takes her hands in his.

"Okay," he says softly. "Okay, if you're sure –

"I'm sure."

"Close your eyes and take a deep breath."

She does what he instructs her to.

"Hold on, Bay. This could get bumpy."

Suddenly, she feels the room drop away and there's spinning. A lot of it.

"Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick. Gabriel, how much longer?"

Bay doesn't dare open her eyes throughout the whole ordeal.

"Almost."

"I can't…."

"Yes, you can, Bay."

Gabriel grips her tighter.

And then, just as soon as it started it stops.

Bay looks around. Somehow they have found themselves in an elevator. It doesn't appear to be moving, and yet, they are in one.

"What the hell? Why are we in an elevator? Gabriel, where are we?"

Gabriel drops Bay's hands and heads towards the button panel. He presses five, then turns and stares at Bay.

"You wanted to know what life was like had you never been born. Well, you're about to see."

She's starting to feel wary about what she has chosen. Who knew what she was about to encounter. Surely it couldn't be good if they were in a hospital. The thought made Bay's stomach churn.

Hospitals.

It's where her life went wrong nearly twenty years ago. Some over worked nurse didn't take a break and wasn't careful enough to check the ID bracelets. One little mistake can change the rest of your life, can throw everything off course. In the small moments of her life when she's alone, really alone, she thinks, "what if?" What if she had missed the blood test day? What if she had ignored it altogether? What if that nurse had gotten a big cup of coffee and been jolted into alertness?

What if?

But all the what iffing in the world won't change what has happened to her. If anything it's a distraction, a game she plays with herself. It could always be worse. It could always be better. That's the point. We never know.

Like that movie, _Sliding Doors._

Miss the train. Catch the train.

Is there such a thing as fate or are we indeterminate?

Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Besides, how much would people really be affected by her not being alive? It wasn't as though Bay was some saint. She could be rude and blunt. Definitely impulsive. Destructive. Vandal. Who would miss that?

"You'd be surprised."

Gabriel's words pierce her thoughts.

"You reading my mind now?"

He smirks and shrugs.

"It's a gift."

"I always thought omnipresence would be a burden."

"It can be that, too."

"Gabriel, can I ask you something?"

"You just did, didn't you?"

"What are you?"

Gabriel furrows his brow.

"What do you think I am?"

Before she can answer, the elevator arrives at the fifth floor. The doors open and Gabriel steps out in front of her.

"This way," he gestures over his shoulder.

Bay freezes when she sees the sign.

**Intensive Care Unit (ICU).**

_Emmett._

"Gabriel…"

He turns around and looks at her. There's sorrow and regret, emotions she knows all too well. Once again, he places his hand out to her.

"Bay," his voice ever so soft, "come on. Come with me."

Nobody questions them as they walk into room 212. Bay figures whatever Gabriel is, he is able to manage not being questioned by security.

An audible gasp emits from Bay when sees the name on the chart that Gabriel has handed to her. It's not Emmett at all.

Toby.

A tear falls from her face as she observes her brother, a bandage wrapped around his face, his body hooked up to tubes. He's not breathing on his own.

"Gabriel," Bay says, her voice shaky, "what is this? What _happened_?"

Sighing, Gabriel hands Bay a newspaper.

Bay reads the article aloud.

"Twenty-five year old third baseman for the Kansas City Royals Toby Kennish," Bay brings the newspaper down to her side and looks at Gabriel. "Toby's a baseball player? Since when?"

"Keep reading."

"Twenty-five year old third baseman for the Kansas City Royals Toby Kennish found unconscious and badly beaten a few days ago near a local bar. Sources close to Kennish say the third baseman has a gambling problem and it is suggested that he may have owed a lot of money to a loan shark, although it has not been confirmed by his manager or publicist. Kennish has had his fair share of trouble lately. After ending an engagement to model girlfriend Simone Sinclair – are you **freaking **kidding me, Gabriel?! Simone?"

"Keep reading."

Bay shakes her head in disbelief.

"After ending an engagement to model girlfriend Simone Sinclair, Kennish was caught driving under the influence. There's no word on his condition, other than he remains critical in the ICU."

Bay cannot believe what she is seeing. This can't be Toby. Turning to Gabriel, she only has one question: "How?"

"Your presence as an artist in Toby's life allowed him the confidence to say no to your dad about sports. With you there, Toby was also able to follow his own artistic dream of being a musician. But without you, this you, Toby couldn't say no. And so he followed in your father's footsteps and became a third baseman for the Royals."

Gabriel gives Bay a sharp glance.

"But it's not his passion. He hates it."

"And the gambling?"

"You looked out for him with that. Asked Daphne to be careful playing poker with him. Got Regina to talk to him about the life of an addict. But without you in his life, he had nobody looking out for him. Nobody stopping him. It just became too much."

"This is crazy."

"It always is."

"Simone?"

"Oh, that," Gabriel notes, laughing a little, "Toby was a jock at Buckner; Simone was a cheerleader. Your parents and her parents were the best of friends and it only seemed natural for them to get together."

"I didn't have anything to do with Simone though."

"Ah, beg to differ. You see, Bay, your influence on Toby had an influence on Simone. She wanted to be better for Toby, even though she had lost him after the whole Emmett fiasco. This Simone though, she didn't care about being a better person because Toby didn't want to be a better person either. It's all a domino effect, Bay."

She walks over to Toby's bed, takes his hand in hers. Then she kisses his bandaged head.

"I'm so so sorry, Toby."

Gabriel lets her stay there with Toby for a few minutes.

"We should get going, Bay."

"Okay," Bay responds, wiping her tears with her sleeve. But then it hits her. "Wait. You keep saying I wasn't there. If I wasn't there though, Daphne would be there, right? No second baby to switch with. So Toby has a Bay. Why wasn't Daphne looking out for him?"

"I guess you'll have to find that out for yourself."

He turns and walks out the door leaving Bay staring at Toby one last time.

"I'm so sorry, Toby."


	3. John

Chapter 3: John

Bay walks out of Toby's hospital room feeling more despondent and depressed than ever before. Also, she's angry. She doesn't know whether Gabriel's God at this point or a guardian angel, but whatever he is, he is lousy at it. How could he just let her walk in there with absolutely no warning?

What would be next?

Would Kathryn be in a coma too?

Would Regina be dead?

She felt her anger seething as Gabriel came up to her with a cup of coffee.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Screw you."

She wants to punch him, throw things at dump. Dump this hot cup of coffee all over him. For now, a verbal thrashing will just have to suffice.

"How could you? How could you just let me walk in there, with no warning whatsoever? That's my _brother_ in there, hooked up to all of those tubes, not breathing on his own. You didn't think that deserved a little heads up? Or do guardian angels just not think that clearly?"

Gabriel takes a heavy breath before sighing.

"I asked you if you were sure, Bay. I told you to be sure before we did this."

"Well maybe I'm not so sure anymore."

For the first time since they've met, Bay sees anger in Gabriel. He was usually so calm, so collected.

"Frankly Bay, that's too damn bad."

Bay is stunned by his sudden turn of emotions.

"You people," he mutters, "it's all the same. You want to change one thing and naively believe everything will work out for the better. Let me tell you, Bay," he says coming in close to her, "life **doesn't** work that way. You made your choice; now you have to see it through. I'm sorry if you think that sucks. Maybe it does. But it's what **you** chose."

His words come hard, like a slap in the face. She wanted to rebut, to tell him he was wrong and awful and yet, she couldn't deny the obvious. She had chosen this. She had decided to take herself out of the equation. Gabriel was right. She was naïve. It's the ripple effect. You can't change one thing without changing the outcome of something else.

No, this is what she wanted.

"Okay," she says nodding, "you're right. Let's go on."

She begins walking towards the elevator when Gabriel's voice stops her.

"Bay…"

She turns around to face him.

"What? Aren't we going?"

"No," he shakes his head, "we're not going anywhere." Seeing the confusion Bay's face, he elaborates. "**You're** going somewhere."

Her chest starts to tighten as panic grips her. She could do this with Gabriel, but on her own? Not a chance. He couldn't do this to her, couldn't leave her like this.

"I can't do this without you."

"Yes, you can. I was just here to show you the way. Besides, I won't be far away. If you need me, I'll be there."

"But," Bay starts, her bottom lip beginning to quiver, "how will I find you?"

"You'll know. When the time comes, you'll know."

Reluctantly she goes, goes into the elevator and out of the hospital. Where to, she has no idea.

And then it hits her: the car wash.

Bay hails a taxi, gives the driver the address, and waits. Thankfully Gabriel had given her a wallet. "For practical reasons," he had said. Someone walking around with no identification would give reason to pause. Although the wallet was all she had. No phone. She'd just have to be resourceful.

"We're here, Ms."

"Thanks."

She feels like throwing up and passing out all at once. At least the car wash looks the same.

The Kennish Car Wash sign is shining bright over city lines.

She's lost in thought when a voice brings her back to reality.

"Can I help you?"

"Um, sorry. What?"

"I said can I help you?"

"John – I mean, Mr. Kennish. Can I see him?" The guy looks at her with an expression that basically says no go unless you can give me a good reason. "I'm a friend of the family. I know his son."

Clearly that was the magic ticket.

"Follow me."

Bay follows him up to the office when he instructs her to stay put. She can see through the glass windows that John's expression changes from disinterested to intrigued when the worker tells him that there's a girl here to see him who knows his son.

John looks up and gestures for Bay to come in.

As Bay walks in, the guy walks out.

"Thanks Gary," John says. He folds his hands in each other. There's something more gruff about this John, less inviting. Not that Bay's John didn't have his moments. Surely he could be rude and blunt and overbearing. A little snobby, but there was also a great deal of caring. Underneath it all, he was her dad. "So," John says, "Gary tells me you know my son?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, you're not Simone. He doing you on the side?"

A whoosh of air goes out of Bay. What?

"Excuse me?"

"You his little side piece?"

How on earth can this be her dad talking to her this way? This isn't John. Only it is, Bay reminds herself. In this reality, he isn't her father. She's a perfect stranger to him, albeit a perfect stranger he thinks he can be extremely rude to.

"No."

"He knock you up?"

"No! No. I'm not sleeping with him. I've never slept with him. We…we went to high school together."

"Did you? Hmm. I don't remember seeing you at Buckner."

"I kept to myself."

"Ah," John says to no one in particular. "Scholarship student?"

Bay's eyes are daggers directed at him. This John was a prick.

"You think because I kept to myself that that makes me a scholarship student?"

John shrugs. "Maybe." He gives her the once over. "So what is it you're looking for here, Ms…?"

She can't give the name Kennish.

"Vasquez. Vasquez-Sorrento."

He snorts. "Quite a name."

Screw this douchebag.

If she hadn't had more people to see and wasn't concerned about being thrown in jail for assault, she'd definitely take this opportunity to hurl something at him. That globe perhaps.

"It's my parents' names."

John swivels his chair around and gets up, then folds his arms and leans his backside against his desk.

"Well, Ms. Vasquez-Sorrento, again I ask you, what are you looking for? Money?"

Freaking hell.

"No, not everything is about money to me. You think it's that way for everyone?"

"Yeah."

Bay feels herself getting defensive.

"Well, it's not," she declares. "Not to Toby."

John barks out a laugh so loud, she can nearly feel the room shake.

"My son Toby? What planet are you living on? Or did you miss the part where he owes thousands of dollars in gambling debts? You think that Toby doesn't care about money."

Bay doesn't have a response for him.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

It's then that Bay sees his left hand, his left hand ring finger which seems to missing a very important piece of jewelry.

"Even if that's true, he's your son. He needs you!"

Again, John laughs.

"Toby doesn't need me. He fired me from being his agent and hired that buffoon, Dilke."

Dilke?

"You mean Wilke?"

"Whatever."

Wilke was Toby's agent?

John continues, "the two of them screwing around, making a mockery of the Kennish name. Let me tell you something," he says, pointing his finger and looking Bay square in the face, "that kid had **every** opportunity and he is squandering it. Going out, gambling, drinking, partying. Doing God knows what with God knows who. What happened to him? He had it coming."

That's it. Who talks that way about their own flesh and blood? What kind of horrible human being was this guy?

"Or maybe you're just pissed off because you can't live vicariously through him anymore."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You're washed up, but you like the feeling baseball gives to you. The fame; the fortune. So you forced that upon your son knowing he never wanted to do it in the first place. Now you tell me, what kind of pathetic father uses his son to relive his glory days?"

John's eyes get wide.

"You sure you're not screwing Toby? I hear he likes them feisty."

"Go to hell."

"Yeah," John nods, "I think we're done here."

"Oh, we are so done." She pushes open the glass door but then turns around for one last remark. "You know, with an attitude like that, it's not hard to see why your wife left you."

Then she lets the door slam shut behind her.

What a pig. What a gross disgusting pig. The John Kennish she just encountered was not the John Kennish she knew.

He was selfish.

He was mean.

He was lost.

And maybe that was the saddest tragedy of all.


	4. Angelo

Chapter 4: Angelo

_What a piece of shit_, Bay thinks. _What a wretched piece of shit John Kennish turned out to be_.

She wants to find Gabriel and call this whole thing off. It was ridiculous. If she had thought her old life was painful, this was ten times worse. Here she had a brother who was on life support after getting the shit beaten out of him for gambling and a father who had pretty much insinuated she was nothing but a piece of ass.

If any of her other family members and friends were like this, she didn't want to see any more.

_Think_, she posed to herself, _where would I be if I were a self-righteous, self-imposing, know-it-all like Gabriel_?

Unfortunately her thoughts were interrupted by her growling stomach. She needed food. More importantly, she needed coffee.

Luckily she finds a cab pretty quickly.

The driver's "where to?" is met with a fraught "where's the best place to go around here for coffee?"

"It's a little bit a ways from here, but well worth it."

He didn't have to tell Bay twice.

"Go."

The ride lasts about twenty-five minutes.

"We're here, ma'am."

The building looks strangely familiar. Then she sees the sign: The Cracked Mug.

Instantly, she's wary, but her hunger takes over.

"Thanks," she says while paying.

She gets out of the cab and walks into the establishment, her legs feeling like jelly. Her nerves are shot. Bay is just waiting for Regina to dart out from somewhere and Bay will then see how she's wrecked her life too.

But Regina is nowhere to be found.

Taking her chances, she gets on line. A croissant would be lovely. Or maybe a snickerdoodle cookie.

The options are endless.

However, before the barista can take her order, Bay drops her money onto the ground. She doesn't see the face of the person who is speaking to her, but she'll never forget that voice.

"Can I help you?"

Startled, she jumps up to her feet.

A lump forms in her throat and tears are starting to drop. It's Angelo. He's alive.

"Are you okay?"

His voice is warm and soft. Oh, how she's missed that voice. It feels so wonderful seeing him standing before her alive and well. At least he seems well. But as joyous as it is seeing him, it hurts. It hurts so damn bad. In this universe, he isn't her father. She's a mere stranger to him, a customer. She isn't his Bay.

When Bay doesn't respond, Angelo probes again:

"Are you okay?"

Thankfully there are only a few other patrons in the place, but they are starting to look at her.

"I'm sorry," she says, her attempt at collecting herself feeble, "you just…you remind me of someone."

He smiles brightly and wide.

"I get that a lot. Let me guess, an old boyfriend?"

That makes Bay chuckle a little.

"No. No, you remind me of my dad. He, uh, passed away."

He drops his eyes, only for a second, and brings them back up to her. They're so inviting and she has to fight the urge to jump over the counter and hug him.

"I'm very sorry to hear that. I lost my father at a young age too."

"Then I'm also very sorry."

Angelo holds her look for a minute. He feels a connection to this lost girl, but he cannot place it.

There is so much she wants to say, so much she never got the chance to say. But a line is forming behind her.

"Looks like you're getting busy."

"It's the lunch rush."

She feels the moment slipping away, and that is the last thing she wants. Her mind searches for a reason, an excuse to stay.

"You wouldn't happen to need any help, would you? I mean, for the time being. The thing is, I don't know how long I am planning to stay, but I could use something stable for a little while."

Angelo smiles.

"You know, one of our baristas is out on medical leave. Hopefully she'll be back in a few weeks. Would that be okay for you?"

Bay nods furiously.

"Yes! Yes, that would be great."

"Can you start today?"

"I can start right now!"

"Great. Why don't you come around back?" He's about to call the next customer forward when he realizes he hasn't asked Bay for any credentials. "Wait." Bay stops and looks at him. "You know how to make coffee, yes?"

Not really, but fake it till you make it, right?

"Definitely. Just call me the coffee gal."

_Really, Bay? The coffee gal? Sound a little less desperate next time why don't you?_

Angelo laughs an embarrassed laugh when Bay comes around the back of the counter. She waits for Angelo to finish with the next batch of customers. When he's done, he approaches her.

"I'm very sorry about that. I'm not the best, how do you say? Entrepreneur. I've never really had a sense for business much. I just like people. And food. Do you like lemon cake? My family has the best lemon cake recipe. You must try it. Please tell me you'll try it!"

He's talking a million miles a minute, but Bay could care less. Angelo is here with her and it feels so natural.

"I'll absolutely try it. I love lemon."

"Me too."

Angelo looks at the dwindling crowd and then back at Bay.

"It seems like it's dying down. I need to go to my office for a bit. Will you be okay out here by yourself?"

"Yeah, for sure. I'll be fine."

He offers her a wink before heading up the stairs.

/ /

The next few hours are pretty calm; nothing too dramatic happens. However, Bay doesn't mind the quiet; in fact, she pretty much welcomes it. This place oozes in tranquility. It's exactly what Bay needs after her first two encounters. And then suddenly, her peace starts to fade away. She remembers why she is here. There are more people to see. Truthfully, she wishes she didn't have to see anyone else. Angelo seems happy.

That's important.

That matters.

It has to mean something, doesn't it?

Bay's never been a narcissist; she never wanted to find out everyone's lives were ruined because of her.

So what if Angelo was better off? Good for him.

Gabriel was wrong. He was the one who was dripping in narcissism if you asked Bay. Not everything had to go wrong because of a single change. Maybe Bay's presence had offered a counterbalance, but that was it.

As she thinks about it all, Gabriel, the meaning of life – more specifically _her_ life - she also notices the walls. Huh. She never noticed them before now. They are filled with artwork and there's a certain authenticity to them, a uniqueness she's only seen in one person's handiwork.

The Cracked Mug.

Clearly Regina and Angelo owned this place together. Had she noticed a wedding band on his finger? Bay admonishes herself for being so careless and thoughtless. She'll have to find a way to ask Angelo without sounding too invasive and creepy. Luckily, her chance comes quicker than she realizes when Angelo comes bouncing down the stairs.

"How are you doing? I hope I didn't scare you off your first day."

"No, I assure you, you didn't," Bay says with the utmost confidence as she's wiping down the counter. Then she shrugs. "This place is great."

_Ask him_, that little voice inside her head insists.

"And I love the paintings. Anyone who can do that must be greatly talented."

Angelo grins.

"Thank you. They're my wife's actually."

"You're married? Does she own this place too?"

"She does, but she spends most of her time at her gallery."

So, Regina has a gallery.

"That's awesome. My mom's an artist, too."

"Is she?"

"Yup."

Bay can sense Angelo's hesitance. He wants to ask her what she's doing here if she has a mother waiting for her at home. Especially when she doesn't have a father.

"We're not on the best of terms. Me and my mom, I mean." Angelo doesn't say anything. In a way she's grateful for that. He's not judging. He's just listening. But there's an ulterior motive for Bay opening up to him. She too wants information, wants to know if there is a child in their life. Maybe one who does street art or cooks. She's so close and yet so far from finding out. But she inches forward, slowly. "Do you….do you and your wife have any kids?"

For the first time since they've met, Angelo gives her a sharp look.

_Abort, abort_, little voice screams.

"I'm so sorry. That's so entirely none of my business. You don't have to answer that." She begins to wipe the counter down again. Then she feels his hand on top of hers.

"I want to," he responds, his voice cracking a little. Bay nods, gesturing for him to go on. _You can tell me._"We wanted to. We couldn't." He has an expression Bay can't quite place. It's definitely sorrowful though. "My wife and I were pregnant at one point, but we lost her – the baby. My wife was seven months along." There are teardrops forming and Bay feels positively awful for opening up this old wound. "It was pretty awful."

Bay places her free hand on top of Angelo's, like kids do when they're playing that game, the hand sandwich game.

"I'm so sorry, Angelo."

Saying his name feels weird.

He dismisses her apology, but not out of malice.

"Thank you, but you have nothing to apologize for."

"I know." She wants to press on, to make sure that despite this huge loss in their lives that they've somehow managed to sustain a life of happiness. "But you and your wife, you're okay now, right?"

"We are. You know….I'm so sorry," he laughs to himself, "I hired you and I never even got your name."

"It's Bay."

"Bay. Bay." He repeats her name like it's a gorgeous melody. "I like that name. You know, Bay, sometimes tragedies make you stronger and make you even more appreciative of love. Have you ever been in love, Bay?" Before she can offer a response, Angelo turns bright red and starts to backpedal. "Forgive me. You do not need to answer that."

"No," she insists, "I want to." Angelo waits patiently for her. "I have been in love. I just don't know if it's the type of love you have with your wife. My boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – wants to focus on school right now. He said maybe in a couple of years we can try again, but I don't know. I pretty much closed the door on that."

"Forgive me for overstepping my bounds, Bay, but can I offer you a piece of advice?"

"Sure."

"Never close the door to love. Even if it's not with this boy, always be open to love."

Bay has never wanted to hug anyone more than she wants to hug him.

"Thank you. I'll try and follow that advice."

Angelo beams.

"I'm happy to know I made a difference."

Suddenly, the clock chimes.

"I think your shift is over for the day."

"Yeah, I guess it is. I almost wish it wasn't. I really love this place."

"Thank you."

Bay starts to leave when Angelo's voice stops her.

"Bay?"

"Yeah?"

"I was just wondering…do you have a place to stay?"


	5. Regina

Chapter 5: Regina

"The house is a mess. Please don't hold it against us," Angelo says to Bay as they walk in the front door. "With the café and my wife's gallery, we haven't had time to really clean up." He sounds genuinely embarrassed, which is cute, Bay thinks. But unnecessary.

"It's fine, really. I should be thanking you for even inviting me over. Are you sure your wife won't mind?"

"No, of course she won't," Angelo assures her, but in his eyes there is a hint of deception. Not that Bay believes Angelo means to lie to her. Besides, if he had said yes Bay probably would be high-tailing it out of there. She really has no desire to put out her in-another-lifetime birthparents or cause any further distress. Although it appeared as though their life was happy, but Bay knows all too well that what seems true isn't always the case. Angelo holds her slowly suspecting gaze for a minute. "I promise. She'll be fine."

Bay nods and follows him into the foyer. She takes in their house. Even from the outside it had a warmth enveloping those who walked by it. It was definitely no Kennish mansion, but it was quaint. A one-story ranch with two bedrooms and a small yard in front. On the way over, Angelo had told Bay about his little ("it's incredibly small") vegetable garden. Angelo had explained that he liked his food mostly organic, hence his garden. Perhaps it seemed strange, even a bit foreign, for Angelo to be divulging so many anecdotes about his life to someone who was a perfect stranger – and in many ways still was one – less than a few hours ago. But it also felt normal. Of course, it's ironic. No matter what universe Bay is in, whether it's one she's meant to be a part of or not, she longs for a connection to Angelo and Regina.

When Bay first found out about the switch, she was scared. While she never admitted that to her parents or Toby, she was. All it did was confirm for once and all that she was meant to be replaced. And then it hit her: she did have a place she belonged. And that is why she was so hell bent on finding Angelo and forging a relationship with him.

And then crap hit the fan because, as per usual, that was Bay's life. He went away, then came back, and somewhere in the few years that followed, the bond she was trying hard to forge just fell at the wayside. Maybe it was her fault just as much as it was his. Maybe she had expected too much from him. Hadn't she told him that once? Yeah, right after finding out about Lana. Bay had informed Angelo that he was merely a disappointment.

Yes, she had apologized, but truthfully the rift that was there never quite mended. It's like this: Fracture a bone, it'll heal, just not entirely. You feel it when it's too cold. A small pain to remind you what was broken and no longer whole. In a nutshell, that was Bay's relationship with Angelo. It just never amounted to what she had hoped it would. And Regina was an entirely different story. Like her relationship with Angelo, Bay had once dreamed of a perfect relationship with Regina. Regina, who was an artist just like Bay. Regina, who had carried Bay for nine months. Regina. It still stung to think about the way Regina spoke to her after Bay intervened right after she fell off the wagon.

"_Who the hell do you think you are? You don't know me."_

The worst part? Bay couldn't even argue with that logic. She didn't know Regina. Not like Daphne knew her. As much as Bay pretended she was okay with the way their relationship was in the present, or the present that included Bay rather, she wasn't. Yeah, Regina had given her money for LA and deep down, Bay knew Regina loved her. But there was always a part of Regina that held back from Bay. That would always hurt more than Bay cared to admit. How could it not? Even if she and Kathryn had a special bond, Regina was her mom, too.

Bay is lost in thought staring at the gigantic painting of Frida Kahlo hoisted high on Regina and Angelo's living room wall when the door opens.

"Honey, I'm home," comes Regina's voice. Bay turns to face Regina who has a confused look on her face. "Um, hi."

Before Bay can say anything, Angelo comes bounding in from the kitchen which is right off of the living room. He kisses her cheek and Bay feels a sharp pang. This doesn't exist in her world anymore – **they** don't exist.

"Gina," Angelo starts, an emphasis on the "G" in her name, "this is Bay. She's going to be staying here a few days. And she's taking over for Maggie until she comes back."

Regina gives Bay and Angelo a skeptical look. It's a look Bay has seen far too often on Regina. The last thing Bay wants is for Regina to be suspicious of her, but really, given the situation, who could blame her? Regina probably thinks Bay is some husband stealing home wrecker or scam artist. She needs to find a way to break the ice.

"Diego was the worst," is all Bay can think to say.

Regina merely blinks at her, face still blank.

"Excuse me?"

Bay points to the painting. "Frida Kahlo. I **love** her. Y'know. 'There have been two great accidents in my life. One was the train the other was Diego. Diego was by far the worst.'" Regina doesn't respond which forces Bay to continue. "I just really love that quote."

And then, Regina's tension eases. Her frown breaks into a smile, "so do I."

"Bay loves art," Angelo chimes in, which makes Bay and Regina start to giggle. "What? What did I say?"

"Men, right?"

Bay affirms this with a nod.

"Come on, Bay. You can help me set the table."

**/**

Dinner with Regina and Angelo is better than Bay could have imagined. The conversation is loose and flowing, not stiff or awkward how she imagined it would be. It feels like she is home for the first time in a long time. Maybe, Bay thinks, maybe she doesn't have to look any further. Perhaps this is why she was brought here, to start anew with Angelo and Regina. In this life, Bay had no parents and they had no children. She wouldn't be their daughter legally or biologically, but what about emotionally? People create their own families all the time, with friends who become their extended family. Bay could be their pseudo-daughter.

But then the gnawing fear and doubt comes upon her. What if she is making up this connection in her head? What if Angelo and Regina are just lonely in general and would have settled for anyone's company? Was it Bay? Or was it just the prospect of no longer being merely a twosome for a couple who had planned on more than that?

"You must be tired."

Regina's voice comes at her like a Mack truck.

"Huh? What? Oh, tired. Yeah, I am."

"Let me show you to your room for the night," Regina says, her arms around Bay's shoulders as she leads her to the spare bedroom. It feels good, to have Regina's comfort. "Sorry it's not the Plaza."

It's certainly not the Plaza, but Bay wouldn't have it any other way. There's what looks to be a full sized bed that has drawers on the side, a small desk with a TV, a window, and a small closet. All the furniture is oak wood and the walls are decorated with art. Lots of art. Bay figures some of it is Regina's.

"Well, uh, I guess sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite?" Regina lets out a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry. You're probably way too old for a saying like that."

"No, you're never too old for that," Bay tries to assure Regina who is being nothing but well-intentioned albeit in an awkward way. It must be hard for her.

"I always wanted a daughter. I – we almost did. Her name was going to be Daphne. Daphne Paloma. Do you think she would have been scarred for life with a name like that?"

"Not at all. In fact, I think it's a beautiful name."

A small, but noticeable tear begins to fall down Regina's face, although Bay can tell Regina is trying to conceal her emotions.

"Well, you have a good night, Bay. See you in the morning."

"Good night, Regina."

**/**

The next morning, Bay awakes feeling more refreshed than ever. That bed was magical or as close to magical as one can attain. She walks out of the room to find Regina sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee watching television.

"Morning," Bay says announcing her arrival into the living room.

"Hey, good morning. You sleep all right?"

"Ugh, yes. That mattress is heaven."

"Tell me about it."

Bay is surprised by that comment.

"Personal experience?"

Regina's eyes widen a bit, almost as if they're afraid to betray too much.

"Me and Angelo had some rough times after the baby."

"I can imagine."

Bay can sense Regina's uneasiness and so she decides not to press any further.

"Can I get you some coffee? I need a refill anyway." Regina doesn't wait for Bay to answer. Instead, she gets up and goes into the kitchen to pour herself a cup and Bay too. "Angelo isn't here, but he said there's no rush for you to get to the café today."

"Oh, okay."

Moments later Regina is back in the living room. She hands Bay her coffee and sits down on the couch.

Bay is about to say something when a familiar face comes on the television. She gasps. It's Kathryn.

"Oh, my God."

"I know. Isn't she great? I watch this show every morning."

Kathryn has talk show, Live! With Kathryn Kennish. But how? The show tapes in New York. Why is she in New York? Why is she hosting a talk show? The questions swirl around in Bay's mind at a million miles a minute. She doesn't know what to say, but she can't not say anything.

"Isn't her son in the hospital or something?"

"Yes, I heard about that. Such a tragedy. He's in a coma, I think."

"So how can she be there when her son is lying in a hospital bed?"

"She was here for a while, but then she went back. I guess she figured there was nothing more she could do for him."

Bay snorts. "So she just goes gallivanting back to her old life like nothing happened?"

_First John, now Kathryn? Are all the Kennishes assholes?_

Regina bites her lip, debating whether or not to say anything. "Bay, life is complicated. Not everything is black and white, you know."

Bay rolls her eyes.

"Right, there's always a shade of gray?"

"Yeah. No one is perfect."

"I'm not asking for perfection."

"But you're judging someone for not handling a situation the way you think she should."

Bay doesn't respond to that.

"Look, Bay, after I lost the baby, I had a really rough time. I mean, really rough. I hit the bottle hard and I'm ashamed to say the things I did when I was drunk. I kept promising Angelo I would get help, go to rehab, go to AA, and I never did."

"But you're sober now, right?"

"Yes, thank God."

"What made you decide to get help?"

"I was reading the paper one day and there was a story about a family whose twelve year old daughter was killed by a drunk driver. I was horrified thinking about the pain they must have been going through. And I was scared that one day, I could be the drunk driver responsible. That day, I went to my first meeting. It was hard. So hard. But then I thought about that family and if they could manage to go on without their daughter, I could go on without a drink for the rest of my life."

"Wow."

"Yeah." Regina tips her chin to the television. "Even to this day, I don't know how she does it."

"What? Who?"

"Kathryn Kennish."

Bay feels herself beginning to panic.

_Oh, please. No. no. no. no._

Gabriel's words about finding out why Daphne was never there for Toby, John and Kathryn's destroyed marriage, John's cynical outlook at the world.

_No!_

"What about her?"

"Her daughter was the one I told you about, the girl killed by the drunk driver."


End file.
